Things You Can't Learn In Books
by scarlett2u
Summary: For Limoversary 2014, celebrating 7 years of our favorite couple. "Are you sure? Because, unlike Nathaniel, I won't say no." Sometimes all you need is a little one-on-one instruction. AU season 1.
1. Chapter 1

For Limoversary 2014, celebrating 7 years of our favorite couple. "Are you sure? Because, unlike Nathaniel, I won't say no." Sometimes all you need is a little one-on-one instruction. AU season 1.

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><p>Somehow, over the sounds of breathless little gasps and the friction of the finest designer garments sliding against each other on superhigh thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, the sound of rustling outside the suite door startled them.<p>

Their lips broke apart and he raised his head.

"Ignore it," she commanded, pulling his head back down to resume the kiss.

After a second's pause, his lips were back on hers. But there was no ignoring what came next.

Because Blair might have the stage set for seduction and might feel that now, right this minute, after waiting for so long, it was finally happening. She was going to make love with Nathaniel Archibald….

Until the door opened….

And Manhattan's favorite It Girl walked in.

"Nate? Blair?! Oh…sorry!" Serena seemed confused, but managed to back out of the doorway and close the door behind her.

"Serena, wait!" And just like that, Nate was off in a flash after her.

Like that was anything new. Blair sank into the sheets with a sigh, letting the fury and shame course through her. So close. She'd been so close. And then her so-called best friend had ruined everything. A little voice inside Blair's head grumbled that it shouldn't be this difficult. Girls lost their virginity every day. Shy girls. Awkward girls. Drunk girls. So why was she, Blair Waldorf, Queen of Constance, designers' darling, the girl who had a line item for La Perla in her monthly allowance, lying there in Chuck Bass's suite with said La Perlas still on? After being raised to believe that her virginity was a priceless thing, it appeared that she couldn't even give it away.

After a few moments, she sighed again and got up, rearranging her dress and straightening her lacy stockings. She was just slipping back into her heels when the door opened again.

"Nate?" Before she could contain it, the word leapt hopefully out of her mouth.

"Afraid not." Well, if wasn't the deep tones of the devil's own, her nemesis and the resident of the suite. Chuck Bass.

She ignored him and slid her other foot into the remaining Louboutin.

"I must say, Waldorf, I am surprised," he taunted. "There I was at the brunch, cooling my heels and waiting to hear news of your successful conquest, when a blur of blonde streaks by, followed by your prey. You must be losing your touch."

Blair snorted. "Hah! Losing my mind is more like it," she said through gritted teeth.

"I told you, you need to seal the deal and be rid of the Serena problem for good." He moved closer to Blair, appraising her. "What can you be doing wrong, I wonder. A pretty girl, a willing girl…perhaps too willing? Could he smell your desperation? Were your kisses too bold…or too innocent?" By this time, he was whispering the words against the shell of her ear.

Chuck really didn't expect her to answer his taunts, but the very last thing he expected was for her to whirl around, dark curls and lace skirt flying, to grip him by the lapels of his linen morning suit and pull his face close to hers. Maybe, just maybe he'd gone a little too far.

"Fine then, Chuck, why don't you tell me what I'm doing wrong?" Anger reverberated through her words and sparked in her eyes.

With that, she pressed her lips to his.

It felt like he'd been struck by lightning. For a second, he was stunned into immobility, in a very unBass-like way. Then the sweetness and the heat of those amazing lips moving against his own seduced him into responding. Had they been like this for seconds, hours, days? His lips had just begun to part hers and his tongue was beginning to tease the curves of those heavenly red lips, inviting her tongue out to play. It was an invitation that was impossible to resist. Her velvety tongue swept over his lips, curling around his tongue in a provocative dance.

He forgot everything. He forgot that this was his best friend's girlfriend. He forgot that Chuck Bass was not that big on kissing. To be honest, he may have even forgotten how to breathe.

Until the kiss suddenly stopped. Blair let go of his lapels and stared up at him with fathomless dark eyes.

"So you tell me, Chuck, what's wrong with my kisses?" Was it his imagination or was her voice raspy and shaky now?

It was all Chuck could do to bite back the first words that sprang to mind. 'Not a blessed thing. You're perfect.' But before he could collect his breath and his thoughts, a loud rap sounded at the door.

"Is this place Grand Central Station or something?" Blair growled.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," Chuck defended. "Here, just pop in my closet and I'll get rid of them."

"What?!" Blair grumbled, but nevertheless slid into Chuck's walk-in. She was still fuming as she surveyed the well-lit, well organized space. It smelled like scotch, a faint hint of tobacco, some very expensive and musky men's cologne, and the not-so-subtle undertones of a scent that could only be described as…Chuck Bass. Folded shirts lined the walls from ceiling to floor, as did suits and slacks on hangers. It looked like a cross between a sacred shrine and a Madison Avenue haberdashery. OMG, she was trapped in the Temple of Turnbull & Asser!

Blair was broken out of her fashion reverie by the sound of the suite door closing and the cool, measured voice of one Bartholomew Bass.

She may or may not have moved closer to the door so as to hear better.

"Charles, I've been looking for you. It's imperative that we speak about a phone call I received this morning."

"It's really not a good time, Father." Chuck sounded a little nervous. Of course, who wouldn't be nervous if your parental unit bore more than a passing resemblance to a great white shark? Even the sound of his voice chilled Blair. She could already feel the goosebumps rising on her arms.

"It's highly important to your future, so I suggest you make time." Bart cleared his throat. "The headmaster from St. Jude called this morning. It seems your grades have dropped…again. And your attendance is abysmal. This is not why I send you to one of the best schools in the city, Charles. You are on probation, both with your school and with me." Blair could imagine his cold, clear blue eyes as he made his case, and she gave a little shiver.

"My patience has come to an end," Bart continued, "If your grades and the academic record don't improve by the end of the school year, I'll withdraw you from St. Jude's and send you to military school in Pennsylvania. No more allowance, no more parties, no more limo."

On opposite sides of the door, both Chuck and Blair were shocked into silence. Bart wouldn't….couldn't….could he? She tried to picture Chuck in a sea of military automatons with shorn heads and woolen uniforms. Her mind refused to even contemplate it. Wasn't Chuck allergic to natural fibers that weren't silk or linen?

Blair moved away from the door, her mind whirling in an effort to come up with some way to help her friend. It was ironic, she thought. He needed academic skills, whereas she needed seductive ones. If only they could switch places…

She suddenly realized the suite had become very quiet. Bart must have left. Trust him to drop a bomb like that and then waltz off on some other international adventure. Blair conveniently forgot that her own father had done the same the previous year with his flight to France in the wake of a sex scandal.

Blair slowly turned the door handle and took a peek outside. Chuck was standing in the same position he had been during their earlier conversation, looking shaken by his father's ultimatum. He looked surprised to see her, as though the unexpected visit had wiped out all memory of her earlier presence.

"Well, that was most unexpected," Blair stated flatly, "However, I'm here to make you a proposition."

Chuck looked over at the rumpled bed and then back at her. Reliably, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smirk and his voice returned with amused confidence. "Are you sure? Because, unlike Nathaniel, I won't say no."

"Not that kind of proposition!" She slapped his arm just a tad too hard to be strictly playful.

"You need to raise your grades. I need to…raise Nate's interest. What do you say we help each other out?"

Chuck tilted his head to the side and regarded her quizzically. "I'm not sure I follow, Waldorf. Are you offering to do my homework for me in exchange for…?"

"For teaching me…," she paused and blushed up to the roots of her hair, "how to please a man. Nothing I've tried with Nate has worked so far…." To her everlasting shame, some of the anguish she was feeling came out in her voice. "So maybe I should defer to your overwhelming experience?"

"In pleasing men?" His grin widened into a smile.

"In knowing what they like. You're a man, right? You've been swaggering about it since we were in sixth grade! Besides, you know Nate better than anyone else."

He really couldn't contest either his masculinity or Nathaniel knowledge. "And you've been his girlfriend since elementary school. If it's the technical points of the matter you're worried about, I'm surprised you haven't researched it. In all our years of scheming, I've never known you to neglect gathering intel before."

She sighed. "Some things, Chuck, you can't learn in books."

"Even if your relationship is 'in transition' right now, you're still Manhattan's up-and-coming couple. You don't think it'll sort itself out?"

"Serena's already taken his virginity. It's only a matter of time before she takes him too. If I don't do something now, something desperate, I've lost. So teach me how to seduce him."

Of course Blair would look at this with clear-eyed cunning.

"This wasn't quite the role I'd pictured for myself in your deflowering."

"You know, I didn't expect you to fight me on this. Isn't corrupting virgins just another item on your daily to-do list?"

"You're not just an everyday girl, Blair." It was different with her. He couldn't put into words how it was, but the distinction was there.

"You need me, Bass. That English lit and calculus isn't going to do itself. Not that I'm going to do it, mind you, but I have no doubt we can save your grades and your bowties. Impressive closet, by the way. Another minute in there and I was going to start praying to the god of Armani. Just imagine scratchy wool uniforms, cafeteria-style dining and someone cropping off all of this." She wound her fingers through his thick, dark hair and pulled on it none too gently.

They both shuddered, though from the terrifying mental images or something more was anyone's guess.

"You make a compelling case," he admitted. "Alright, I'm in."

"A couple of conditions first: One, I won't do your homework for you, and two, I won't have sex with you either."

His mocking tone returned. "As previously stated, it's an honor to play any size role in your deflowering."

"If all goes to plan, I keep Nate and you keep your limo and your lifestyle. We both win."

"You and me for the win then." Chuck extended a hand to Blair and as their fingers clasped, a jolt of electricity passed between them. Their eyes met as their hands parted, each feeling as though something important had just occurred.

They had a deal. They had a plan. They were Chuck and Blair.

What could possibly go wrong?

To Be Continued

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><p>Special thanks to Parisinthe1920s for creating and organizing Limoversary, and to Chrys1130 and SnowedUnderNJ for being wonderfully supportive friends.<p>

Did you know the ancient Maya used reviews as currency? Wait, I think that was chocolate. Reviews are priceless and highly valued—yeah, that's it.


	2. Chapter 2 Lesson the First

Welcome to the second adventure in the Tutorverse. In our last chapter, to quote one of my lovely reviewers, "the virgin made a pact with the devil." This is what happens next.

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><p>Chapter 2: Lesson the First<p>

"Quadratic equations serve absolutely no purpose in life. Polynomials. Permutations. Solving for that damn elusive X. I miss when math actually meant something," Chuck Bass grumbled.

Being surrounded by math notes and text books was considerably less inspiring to him than his usual well aged scotch and underage twins. Still, if his father were serious about his threat of military school—and he had no reason to believe the coldblooded bastard wasn't—Chuck was going to have to figure out this mathematical mess.

Salvation arose from the other side of the dining room table in the form of Blair Waldorf. "It's Pre-Calc. It has to lead to something, even if that something is just Calc I. Show me what you're doing." She pulled a chair up beside him.

Chuck sighed and dutifully demonstrated how he had arrived at his answer—or rather hadn't. Blair leaned in even closer, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and unconsciously biting her lower lip. "Here's what you need to do…," she began.

He tried to listen, he really did, but being this close to Blair Waldorf meant he could smell the faint strawberry scent of her shampoo and he could practically feel her silky stockings rub against his school uniform trousers. His mind went straight to how amazing kissing her the other day had been. Would it always be that transcendent, or had the shock of it all short-circuited his judgment?

"See what I mean?" She was looking at him now, and clearly expecting some sort of answer.

"Not really. Show me again?"

Blair sighed.

Just then, Dorota entered the room with a plate of tastefully arranged European-style pastries and two cups of steaming, aromatic coffee. The woman was a lifesaver, for sure. Except for the sideways look she gave him as she set down the cups. That implied she could be a life taker as well. The slight glare seemed to demand to know what he was doing there and warn him that it better not involve her charge losing her skirt. Ah, if she only knew…

Dorota seemed mollified by the presence of their homework assignments spread out on the table, but her warning look was enough to get Chuck back in the math game. This time, when Blair explained the process again, he listened carefully and tried to follow. His attempt met with limited success, but two more tries and it was slowly becoming comprehensible to him. He was able to finish the rest of the homework with much less struggle and a growing feeling of accomplishment.

"Wow, that was fast. I only wish my Statistics & Probability assignment was going as well. It's all story problems and none of the stories make any sense to me."

"Stats? Stats make perfect sense!"

"How does that make sense to you and quadratic equations don't? Here," she thrust her assignment toward him, "enlighten me, please."

He took the papers, read the problem aloud and immediately showed her which formula to use.

The answer came quickly and easily. "How are you such a wiz at this?"

He looked sheepish for a moment. "My dad's reports from Bass Industries. Business always involves analysis and speculation. I've always tried to read them and follow along. Not that he was in any way impressed by my efforts…."

"Well, I'm impressed." She flashed him a small smile.

"Miss Blair?" Dorota came back into the room, her little maid's cap off and her coat in hand. "If there's nothing else you need, I leave. Don't study too long," she looked meaningfully at Chuck.

"We're almost done. Thank you, Dorota."

When the elevator door slid closed, Blair turned back to Chuck. "Want to go upstairs and watch a movie? I know you're doing Jane Austen in Lit class this semester and I have several of the movies."

"Sure." He wondered if this was code for her part of their tutoring deal. He followed her up the winding staircase and into her room.

As she fiddled with the TV and DVD player, he took a moment to look around.

Her inner sanctum.

It was tasteful and tidy, just as he expected. The wall-size Marie Antoinette lent a flirty touch. And the bed, covered in designer bedding and a plethora of pillows, loomed large.

"My, what a big bed you have." The words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them.

"Take it easy over there, Big Bad." She rolled her eyes.

"Have we moved on to pet names now?" His voice was almost as mocking as the look in his eye.

"I just want to watch this movie." She unceremoniously plopped down on the floor, with her back resting against the foot of the bed.

He followed suit. "Really? You didn't have any other plans?" he whispered against her ear.

Her eyes flew to his and he was shocked by the terror he saw there.

"Blair…what's wrong? Because we don't have to do this….I can go…." He moved to get up and her hand shot out to grip his arm, her fingers wrapping around him and pulling him back, pulling him down until his face was close, oh so close, to hers. And then she was kissing him again.

Nope, it had not been a fluke. If anything, the intensity hit even faster this time and it didn't let up. This time it was her tongue that slid across his lips and engaged in a dance with his. He responded like a man who'd crawled a thousand miles through the dusty desert to finally find water. His arms came around her and he had no intention of ever letting her go.

Until she pulled up and looked up at him. "Am I doing something wrong?"

There was no hesitation on his part this time. "No, you're amazing. I could kiss you all night. In fact…." Chuck tried to go back to the point where their mouths were doing more important things than talking.

"Then, why, Chuck? Why does it have to be so complicated? So much work?"

"Work? Waldorf, you are looking at this all wrong. It's not about work; it's about pleasure."

"Pleasure?" she scoffed. "Right. Trying to figure out how to please my boyfriend so that he won't leave me."

Then it hit him. She really had no idea what he was talking about.

"Blair, have you ever had an orgasm?" The question was unexpectedly direct but gentle.

She sputtered. "Of course!" Then she paused. "I…I think I have."

"Orgasms are not something you think you have. If you've had one, you'd know." Seriously, his best friend must be the biggest fool in the world. His girlfriend was beautiful, smart, sexy and an amazing kisser….who didn't know if she'd ever had an orgasm. Did Nate not know the slightest thing about pleasuring a woman? Maybe Chuck was giving lessons to the wrong person in the relationship!

"Here, you need to relax." Chuck took Blair's hand and pulled her up. "Lie down on the duvet."

Blair looked skeptical.

"I'm just going to help you relax. Just a simple massage. Trust me."

She still looked skeptical, but she acquiesced and lay face down on her bed.

He straddled her thighs and started with her shoulders, his hands lightly smoothing over them before he began swirling rhythmic circles over them with increasing pressure. When his hands became entangled in her loose curls, he reluctantly pushed them to the side. The curls seemed wind themselves around his fingers, as if they didn't want to let him go.

Blair let out a little sigh. The only way this could feel any better was if she removed her shirt, and it was way too early in the lesson plan for that.

He worked his way down her spine, giving each vertebrae special attention. He was midway to the base of her spine when she made a little sound that was part sigh, part gasp, part cry and all bliss.

A grin broke out on his face as the sound traveled through his core, settling in his cock. He was now incredibly hard and all she'd done was make a little happy noise. This had been a very bad idea. Maybe she wouldn't notice?

She sighed and stretched, sinking further into the bedcovers as the stretch traveled down the length of her curves, finally resulting in her perfect derriere rising up to meet him. She could hardly miss it now, even through all the layers of clothing between their bodies.

Chuck gritted his teeth. This was torture and any minute now she was going to spring up, chastise him and throw him out of her bedroom.

But she didn't. Instead she made another little happy sound and asked, "Where did you learn to do that with your hands? And please don't tell me you were a geisha in another life."

"You know, you don't get nearly enough credit for your wit. Or your kisses." He placed a light kiss gently on the base of her spine. "The story does have something to do with a practitioner of the Asian art of massage, but I'll leave the rest of the details to your imagination."

"Thanks for that, but I think I'm incapable of thinking just now." She did another of her sexy stretches and moans.

He slid further back so as to gain some control over his sanity. She was killing him. And it only got worse. As he slid down, her already short skirt slid up, revealing the lacy tops of her stockings and a slice of creamy, silky thigh above them. He needed to touch her skin then, badly.

Distraction. He needed a distraction. He forced his hands up to her waist and slid them up her sides, over the material of her uniform shirt, lightly at first then more slowly with a deeper touch. What the hell was he thinking? He was so close to her breasts. If he slid his hands a few inches on either side, they would be in his hands. And while she wasn't exactly centerfold size, he knew they would be a perfect fit. Just the thought of running his hands over those curves, teasing the tips of her nipples with his fingers and tongue…it made him want to pull her close and ravish her. Great, now his cock was throbbing again.

He pulled away again, moving his massage to her upper arms. "Is m'lady more relaxed now?"

"Mmm, yes. I feel wonderful."

If he hadn't been so aroused, maybe he would've made a different choice. Maybe he would've been pleased by her innocent comment alone. Maybe he would've watched a movie with her. Or maybe he would've just gone home or out on the town.

But he did none of those things.

He leaned up and whispered in her ear, "Turn over."

If she hadn't been floating on a cloud of relaxation and good feelings, maybe she would've questioned his request. Maybe she would've gone downstairs and made some popcorn for their movie. Maybe she would've even remembered there was a movie….

But she didn't. Instead she twisted beneath him until they were face to face. And once they were face to face, there was really only one thing to do….

They kissed.

Without stopping, breathing or thinking.

And then they kissed some more.

Eventually his arms came from around her back and slid down her décolletage, skimming over her cleavage and coming to what was meant to be a brief stop at her tits. Damn, but they fit his hands as perfectly as he'd expected.

His touch was burning her. Even through the prim white blouse, the silky camisole and the lacy bra underneath, she could feel him and it wrung another little cry from her.

His answering moan only increased her desire. Was this what making out was supposed to feel like? Because she'd never felt like this with Nate.

Chuck's hands suddenly left her and she started to put up a mewl of protest when they again settled, this time on her hips and derriere. He cupped and caressed her as though he were worshipping some precious object. Her protest quickly turned into a sexy smile and a sigh of relief.

How much time passed, neither could've said, but eventually his hands dipped lower, under her skirt and onto the patterned stockings underneath. They traced the lacy strip at the top that held the hosiery to her thigh….and then his fingers were stroking the bare, tender skin on her upper thigh.

She let out a gasp and his eyes flew up to meet hers. They lay there for a moment, looking at each other, breathless and high on desire.

"Shh," he soothed. "I'm going to pleasure you, Blair. I'm going to show you how good it can be for you. May I?"

She nodded. "Show me," came out as a breathless whisper.

At her assent, he let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and returned to the task at hand. Her skin was so soft, so smooth…he never wanted to take his hands off her perfect curves. Almost before he knew it, he'd reached the delicate lace barrier that was her panty line. He paused for a moment and lifted her skirt for a better view. The wisp of lavender lace that barely covered her was almost as exquisite as the skin it covered.

He raised an eyebrow. "So this is what you've been hiding under those schoolgirl skirts."

She flushed for a second, then gave him a surprisingly knowing smile.

Did he imagine it, or did she just give him a wink? He didn't stop to consider it, not with the lacy confection that was waiting for him. And once again he was worshipping her oh so perfect ass with his hands, eliciting little sounds that got even louder when he reached the convergence of her delicious thighs. He didn't hesitate, a finger slid under the silky barrier only to be tangled in the dark curls below.

They both gasped.

Heaven help him, she was wet. So wet. And he wanted so much to free his cock and plunge it into her depths, to completely explore the desire they were both experiencing. But this was for her; it was all about her. So he ignored the tightness in his groin and focused on adding another finger to the one that was gently massaging her sodden center.

A louder, bolder noise escaped her lips and for a moment it actually frightened her. She felt herself losing control of the situation. All that existed was his fingertips and the feelings they were inspiring in her.

And then those fingertips slipped inside her folds, skating on the lovely wetness her body was providing for him. Swirling and swirling, as her cries grew louder and he thought there was no sound more lovely in the world. Then his beautiful, elegant finger slid into her most secret of places, and possibly into her soul.

"Come for me, Blair," he coaxed. Her entire body responded, somehow almost coming off the bed and collapsing into it at the same time. She felt infused with color and warmth, as if she were flying through the air or through the stars. And she just screamed and held onto him for dear life. She never ever wanted it to end, even though she felt that she might die from it.

After a moment passed and she could feel the breath coming back into her body, she opened her eyes and looked down at him. His look of otherworldly elation matched hers.

He was right, damn him. She'd never experienced anything like that before. It wasn't the kind of thing one could forget.

Before she could recover enough to speak, he leaned down and gently kissed her forehead and then her lips. Then he whispered, "And that's with all your clothes still on. This is just the beginning. Before you can please someone else, you have to know what pleasure is. Thus ends the first lesson. Any questions?"

"Blair! BLAIR! Where are you?" The sound of her mother calling for her downstairs broke them out of their magic bubble.

Chuck jumped back and Blair sat bolt upright, leaping out of the bed and trying to smooth her hair and clothes into order.

"You didn't tell me she was coming home tonight!" Chuck accused.

"Because she's not supposed to be back until tomorrow afternoon. You stay here and be ready to slip downstairs as soon as I can get the coast clear," she hissed.

Then she was gone.

"Mother! How lovely you're back. Dorota has made the most wonderful pastries. Let's go into the pantry and sample some."

Chuck listened to the voices fade as they went down the hall on the lower level. Then he slunk down the stairs and grabbed his books and papers from the dining area. He slid on his Italian loafers and headed for the elevator.

The drive home seemed long. He kept replaying in his mind all the wonderful little (and not so little) noises she had made. He wished, quite uncharacteristically, that they had gotten a chance to talk after.

Suddenly a bell chimed on his phone. Ah, a text…from Blair?!

THKS FOR 2NITE. WHEN IS LESSON #2?

It couldn't be soon enough for him.

To Be Continued

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><p>Are YOU ready for Lesson #2?<p>

Huge thanks to all the wonderful readers who reviewed, followed and favorited. Every single one made me smile. Special thanks to ChuckBlair80lover for ongoing support, enthusiasm, and generosity in providing both, and to my girls SnowedUnderNJ and Chrys1130. Wish we were still at the Empire bar sipping on Chuck Basses.

Want to give something priceless AND free? Review today!


	3. Chapter 3 The Lingerie Show

Thank you all for your support and kind words. At the end of the last chapter, Blair asked when Lesson #2 would be, and quite a few readers also wanted to know! If you were one of them and you said, "I'm ready for Lesson #2", this chapter is for you!

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><p>It simply wouldn't tie.<p>

No matter what Chuck tried, the scrap of fabric in his hand had resisted any and all attempts to form it into some semblance of fashionable neckwear. Chuck looked down in dismay, forced to acknowledge the fact that the bowtie was rumpled beyond rescue now and a replacement would be needed.

"Bass? Earth to Bass?! What the hell, man?! First you haven't been around for the last two weeks and now we're here you can't even pull it together so we can get to the club."

Chuck ignored the good-natured ribbing from one of his companions and fetched another bowtie from the walk-in closet, prepared to do battle once more.

"Yeah, Bass," another chimed in, "I thought you could tie one of things under any conditions—drunk, high, in complete darkness, all of the above."

A third friend joined in the laughter.

"Gentlemen, some things can't be rushed, and I am one of them." No one was going to accuse Chuck Bass of being an example of half-assed haberdashery.

"I know what's wrong with him!" First Guy was commenting again. "He misses his BFF, Archibald."

"Yeah, where is Nate tonight?" Male Minion #3 inquired.

"Off to some lingerie show his girlfriend's mom is throwing. Hope he enjoys it. It's probably the only glimpse of lingerie he'll be getting. Can you imagine the Ice Queen all decked out in Victoria's Secret? She probably wears cotton granny panties."

All three flunkeys laughed. But Chuck did not. Because, in truth, he had no problem envisioning Blair as a sex goddess. He knew what was under those short little skirts and the memory of pushing that wispy little lace concoction aside and make her scream with bliss was something he was having trouble putting out of his mind.

And he'd been trying. For days. Very, very long days without her.

She'd texted, "WHEN IS LESSON #2?" and he'd replied "whenever you want it to be."

Since then, everything had gone haywire. Her mother had asked her to be a model in the fashion show/reception for Waldorf Designs' line of retro lingerie. Then midterms had descended at school, for students at both Constance and St. Jude. So the only times he'd even seen her were across the courtyard at school and on the Met steps having lunch with her ladies-in-waiting. And it was driving him out of his mind, because said mind kept replaying their last meeting in an endless loop, complete with sound, texture, and Technicolor.

So it was probably a good thing he was going out tonight. Let Nathaniel go play the dutiful boyfriend and watch her walk down the runway in some sinfully silky outfit that left little to the imagination…. His mind flashed back to those lavender lace panties, and he shook his head as if to clear it. He was going out tonight and he was getting laid and he was going to end this torture once and for all.

He put the finishing touches on a knot that still wasn't quite up to his exacting standards, and turned to go.

The limo ride to the club should've only furthered his quest for debauchery and oblivion. The back of the limo was well stocked with strong scotch and the best weed. They were four single, privileged young men in search of escape from responsibilities they hadn't even faced yet. They hadn't a care in the world.

Except…..

Something was missing.

Chuck should be in his milieu here. Sharp dressed, sharp witted, ready to take on the night. So why did he wish he were the one sitting by the runway, waiting to see….her. His mind flashed back over the last week, from her unintentionally sexy text to meeting her dark eyes across the courtyard to watching her tongue dart out to catch a runaway dribble of yogurt at lunch.

He'd never before been jealous of a dairy product. It was ridiculous. This had to stop.

Luckily, the group soon arrived at their venue. From the corner of his eye, Chuck caught sight of brunette locks flowing down the back of one of the girls out on the dance floor. Before he could stop it, his heart sped up.

In vain, he reminded himself that he was not that guy. He was Chuck Bass. And if he thought he needed a little Blair fix so much, then a Blair fix he was going to get and then get on with his evening.

He stood, excused himself and made his way to the back entrance to the club. It had been too long; he just needed to hear her voice again. He knew a text would be the smarter choice, since she was probably either finishing getting ready or out on the catwalk already. But even her voicemail would be a welcome respite at this point.

"He-hello," her voice came through the phone.

It took him a second to realize it was really her and not the outgoing message.

"Dare I ask what you are wearing right now? Or is that cliché?"

He expected to hear a little laugh or a smile in her voice, but the answer came in the form of a broken little sob.

"Blair? Blair, what's wrong? Are you crying?"

Silence.

"Blair, where are you? Are you at the show?" He was getting scared for her now.

"No…I'm at home."

"Alone?" He couldn't quite understand what had happened to her plans.

"Yes. It's really not a good time, Chuck…."

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

The call ended and Chuck's evening truly began.

He returned to his table and grabbed his coat, quickly explaining to his party posse that he had somewhere he needed to be. This led to another round of ribbing about the nature of an offer so good it could trump their night on the town. Chuck didn't address the issue. He merely apologized for leaving them limo-less and threw some bills on the table to cover the next round of drinks. And since nothing secures the goodwill of teenage boys more than free alcohol, all was forgiven.

Free of his obligations, Chuck wasted no time in making his way to Blair's apartment. As he exited the elevator to the penthouse, he was surprised to see that the lights were dimmed and the place looked deserted. On the plus side, at least she wasn't gorging herself in the pantry. However….she could be upstairs purging in her en suite. Chuck shrugged off his coat and took the stairs two at a time, the complete antithesis of his usual saunter.

He found her in her bedroom, sitting quietly on the edge of her bed in a velvet robe. Only the tracks of her tears gave away her true emotions.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

Tears sprang to her eyes once more and began to make their way down her cheeks. Again he reflected that Blair was not like other girls when she cried. There were no red eyes, puffy lids or splotchy cheeks on her. Oh, no, it was like a Greek tragedy had been sculpted in porcelain. Something about her tears got to him and made him unable to look away.

"Where's Nate?" he demanded, furious that Blair should be so upset and her "perfect" boyfriend was nowhere in sight.

"Probably at home, with his family. That's where I told him he should go." Blair sounded completely unconcerned by his absence.

"And Dorota?"

"She's with my mother at the show. Some sample shipments arrived late and Mother wanted her to hand deliver them."

"Most importantly, why are you here?"

Two more tears fell down her beautiful face, but she swallowed and began to explain. "This afternoon, Serena and I went over to the ballroom to see how the preparations were going and…"

"Wait, I thought you and Serena still weren't speaking after she interrupted your little seduction scene in my suite?"

"Well, she apologized and I stupidly forgave her! My mother took one look at her and decided she should be a model in the show too. She gave her all the best designs. I could tell I was being pushed into the background, so I made up some story about not feeling well and got out of there. What is wrong with me? Why is it that my boyfriend and even my own mother wish I were more like Serena? Am I so fat and ugly that everyone wants Serena instead?"

Fresh tears welled, as did Chuck's anger. What was wrong with Eleanor that she was blind to her daughter's feelings and insecurities, had even been oblivious to her eating disorder? Didn't she realize Blair needed success and support to continue her recovery? And Nate? Didn't that clueless idiot know that when a girl tells you nothing's wrong and you should go home that home is very last place you should be?

Chuck's hand twitched. At the moment, he very much wanted to hit Nate and even Eleanor. But they weren't here. And Blair was. And she needed him right now. He sat down beside her on the bed and turned her face to him, cupping it gently in his hands. Very slowly and gently, he let his fingertips come up and erase the tracks that marred her cheeks. When her lips quivered, he gave them the same treatment.

"It's crazy for you to compare yourself to Serena or any model. They're not real women; they're glorified coat hangers. Their one job is let clothes hang off themselves so someone will buy those clothes. You are so much more than that. You're smart and sexy. It was their mistake to cut back your role in the show. I bet you'd be a hundred times hotter than all the other models in that lingerie." He pulled her closer and gently planted a kiss on her shoulder.

She gazed back at him and mustered up a small smile. "Well, we'll never know, now will we?"

"Hope springs eternal. Now let's go downstairs. I'm starving. Have you eaten?"

"No, I haven't." And just at that moment, as if to verify her denial, her tummy growled.

"Has Dorota been doing any more baking lately? I could go for some of those Polish pastries she made last time. And let's hit the wine cooler. Surely Eleanor keeps some Dom chilled for special occasion?"

"And what's the special occasion?" she laughed.

"You are."

They raced each other down the stairs and headed straight for the pantry. A few minutes later they were back upstairs again, with a picnic spread out on the duvet. Some strawberries, a bunch of purple grapes, a bowl of freshly made whipped cream, a fine cheese of dubious name and national origin, some leftover Laduree macarons, and, to wash it down, a bottle of 1989 Dom Perignon.

Chuck did the honors of decanting into Eleanor's prized crystal champagne flutes, while Blair wasted no time popping some of the succulent fruit into her mouth. When the juice from a particularly ripe strawberry spilled down her chin and dropped onto her décolletage, Chuck laughed. Slowly the tension he'd felt upon hearing her tears over the phone began to dissipate.

"I see someone has an appetite for something other than destruction. You know, when I called I was worried that whatever happened may have caused your, er, problem to resurface." His confession contained a bit of a question as well.

"I was too," Blair said softly. "It wasn't easy. I was tempted. I guess it's true what they say: old habits die hard."

"You know what I find works wonders in getting rid of old vices?" He leaned closer to her mouth. "Establishing new ones." His eyes dropped to her lips before his own lips followed suit. He could taste the tangy sweetness of the fruit and the sugary notes of a macaron, along with the addictive taste of Blair herself. Suddenly he no longer had an appetite—at least not for anything their picnic spread might provide.

He deepened the kiss and then withdrew a little, trying to gauge her reaction.

She gave a little whisper of a sigh that would've been missed had he not been paying such close attention.

Suddenly, he had to see her smile, so he reached down and plucked a strawberry from the tray, dipped it in the heavy whipped cream and brought it up to her lips, smearing a bit of the cream on her upper lip. Startled, she nonetheless managed to open her mouth and take a bite, letting her tongue slip out to lick her upper lip and his fingers in the process. They were both startled then, and he never more so than when that velvety tongue lingered and licked him once more.

She laughed then and he did too and the tension in the air around them seemed to lighten a bit. They continued with their little feast, chatting about anything and everything, and draining more than half the bottle of Dom.

That was when he noticed the box on her dresser.

"What's that?"

A very unladylike word came out of Blair's mouth. "My mother is going to kill me! It's one of her shipments that got lost from the rest. It was waiting downstairs when I got home and I totally forgot to call her about it."

"It can't be that important, judging from the size."

"I thought it was women who were supposed to be all about the size mattering? It's lingerie—it's not like it needs gigantic packaging."

"Lingerie, huh? Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That it's really hard to get good delivery help these days?" she snorted.

"That we may not have missed the lingerie show after all. You can model for me." He smirked.

The typical, sober Blair would've never considered it. But the Blair who'd been on an emotional roller coaster all day and had just downed two flutes of Dom's best was intrigued by the idea. She paused, mulling the idea over.

"C'mon, Waldorf, think about it. You want to learn how to please a man? Start by dressing for the role. Trust me, this man will be very be pleased if you do."

Was it the intimate tone in his voice or the curiosity in her mind that pushed her to agree? Ultimately, the offer contained two things Blair couldn't seem to resist: a dare and Chuck Bass.

"I don't even know what's in there. It could be nothing."

"I highly doubt that it's granny panties," he sneered. "Come on, indulge your curiosity…."

Before Blair knew it, her derriere had left the duvet and sashayed over to the box. As Chuck had said, it wasn't very big and it was somewhat rumpled by its misadventures in the delivery process. The tape didn't even put up a fight as she ripped it off. What was she doing?

Layers of tissue paper fell aside and finally she could see inside. Nope, definitely not "granny panties." She swallowed.

"It looks like there's only a couple of ensembles here."

"Well, they won't be missed then. Come on, do your little turn on the catwalk for me," he coaxed.

It's never very difficult to persuade someone to do what they want to do anyway, and after another half glass of champagne, Blair was convinced this was the best idea ever. She took the box behind her dressing screen and tried to decide which outfit to try on first.

While she analyzed the outfits, Chuck moved the tray containing the remnants of their impromptu banquet, took off his jacket and sat back down on the bed, leaning his back against the pillows. He was more than ready. "The future of fashion is waiting to be revealed, Waldorf," he hinted gently.

Another moment passed, and finally Blair slipped out from behind the screen….

Completely covered by the robe she'd been wearing when he arrived.

He groaned.

"It's just us here, Blair. You and me." He moved to the edge of the bed and gently tugged on the sash of the robe. "You have nothing to be ashamed or scared of."

She simply stood there looking at him, allowing him to unknot the sash and slip the robe off her shoulders.

He gasped. She was a vision standing in front of him in a perfectly matched, 1940s style bra and half-slip. It was white with sassy little black bows adorning the straps, the décolletage, and the tops of the garters that led down to sheer, black stockings. Elbow length black satin gloves completed the look. Both the bra and slip were stretch lace and hugged her curves perfectly. She looked like a pin-up star and Chuck could see how soldier boys would have been highly motivated to fight and return to such a goddess. Without thinking, his hands reached out to tease the little bows. Then they moved up to caress the long locks that curled over her shoulders.

"Do you like it?" She gently bit her lip as she asked, revealing her insecurity over the answer.

"Very much. It's sassy….and innocent at the same time."

"The next one is less innocent," she confided.

"Then on with the show!" He raised his glass to her and she took it right from his hand, raised it back and downed the liquid courage in one long swallow.

She paused by her vanity before returning to the dressing area, leaving her robe still on the bed. A fact which did not go unnoticed by her solitary audience member and #1 fan.

Chuck was prepared to wait a while for her to change into the next outfit, especially when she'd described it as "less innocent" than the first. So he was almost startled when she stepped out in record time.

If by "almost startled" one meant he was experiencing palpitations and having difficulty breathing.

What luck they had found the misdirected box, because there was no way in hell Eleanor Waldorf would have let her beloved teenage daughter model the item she was wearing now. Maybe a filmy robe or sleek chemise, but definitely not this….

It was a corset of deepest, darkest black lace. Floral patterns made the structured garment look like a trellis of midnight blooms, an image reinforced by the boned stays that nipped in her waist and pushed up her bosom. High-cut panties and thigh-high stockings in a matching lace pattern complemented the corset and Blair had chosen sky-high stilettos and a bright red lipstick to set the ensemble off.

"Is this better?" she asked, nerves and a touch of coquette battling in her voice. "I told you it was less innocent."

"Less innocent, and infinitely sexier. You look like a midnight garden and an invitation to sin. Come here," he whispered as he rose and took one of her hands, leading her to stand in front of the oversized cheval mirror in the corner.

Her eyes squeezed shut, as if she were afraid to see the girl in the mirror.

"No, open your eyes. Look and see what I'm seeing right now." How did he do that sexy thing with his voice? That tone that ripped away all her defenses and stirred all her desires. And when his hands came from behind and circled her waist, she leaned back against him to get as close as possible as his hands traced the contours of her body. Up her sides, down her arms, around her waist again, and down the sides of her mostly bare hips, down the expanse before her silky skin gave way to equally silky stockings.

Her eyes were closed in bliss and her sensitized skin broke out in gooseflesh.

And that's when he began kissing his way down her neck.

She gasped and her eyes flew open.

"Look in the mirror. Watch me, watch us," he murmured in her ear.

She couldn't have stopped if she tried. The sight of him kissing her neck and shoulders and his hands exploring her as if she were the most beautiful thing on earth was the most erotic thing she could imagine. And when one of his hands slid down to her center and gently pushed the lace barrier away and began to her caress her, her heightened arousal gave way to orgasm.

She sank back against him, breathless, speechless.

He chuckled, and then she laughed….and promptly disengaged from his arms and headed straight for the dressing area.

"Where are you going?!"

"There's one more outfit," she replied over her shoulder, "And I really want you to see it."

His mind froze. What on earth could be better than what he'd already seen?

He didn't have to wait long to find out. As Chuck was filling another flute, Blair stepped out and walked over to him, confidence in her gait and a smile on her face.

And on her body?

It exceeded every fantasy—and God knows there'd been many of them, especially in the last week—of her he'd ever had. He was awestruck by this latest ensemble.

It must have showed on his face because her smile grew wider. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"

He struggled to get his mouth to form words. "I think I may have swallowed it. The cat is innocent. You, on the other hand…." Chuck raised his hand and gestured towards her. "You are a goddess."

The current lingerie was the most revealing yet, showing far more creamy skin than its predecessors. Like the black corset set, this set was also 2-piece with a saucy red push-up bra with demi-cups that barely covered her perfectly pink nipples. The lace was sheer with only delicately embroidered roses concealing what was underneath. Instead of flirty panties, the bottom piece was a lacy thong that revealed the exquisite shape of her ass. Sheer, red stockings and little lace half-gloves served as her accessories, though she needed none.

If ever there were a perfect color for someone, flame red was it for Blair.

"Do you like it?" She gave a little twirl in front of him, seeming perfectly at home in her own skin.

"I adore it." Her beautiful mouth was so close….it would be a waste not to kiss her.

It was the slightest brush of their lips together, but the spark leapt between them as powerful as ever. He couldn't stop it, and he didn't want to.

"Exquisite." Was he talking about the lingerie…or her?

When she pulled him back in for another kiss, his hands slid down her body, glorying in her skin and how it felt beneath his fingertips. It should've been cool to the touch, that pale, creamy skin, but it seemed to give off warmth from within. He'd never had access to so much of her before, and he was intoxicated by the feel of the fire below.

She kissed him slowly, passionately, with her arms wrapped around his shoulders and entangled in the dark waves of his hair. His own arms wrapped around her more closely, trailing down her spine, encircling her waist, sliding over the curve of her hip until he had a bare cheek in each hand and was kneading her oh so perfect ass.

It was too much. Any second now, he was going to rip those fragments of fabric off her body, throw her onto the bed and give her the greatest lesson of all.

Slow down.

He had to slow down.

He forced his hands back up her body where they toyed with the straps of the push-up bra.

She laughed softly. "Are you trying to unwrap me?"

"Mmm, such a pretty package. You know, red may just be my new favorite color."

"Oh, really?" She ran her hands up his chest, all the way up to his red patterned bowtie, then she pulled on each side at the same time. It came apart in her hands like a child's cracker toy at Christmas and she smiled even wider as she pulled it from his neck and unbuttoned his two top buttons.

They were kissing again (or still) and he lost all track of his surroundings until he felt the back of his knees butt up against Blair's bed as he collapsed with her on top of him. Even that didn't break their kiss, it only allowed them to get closer without any thought of gravity interrupting them.

Because nothing in heaven or earth could stop them, not even an entire army of Serenas. Blair paused at that thought for a second; it was such a contrast to her previous experience with Nate. When she looked down at Chuck's face, he was completely focused on her. His eyes, an ever-changing kaleidoscope of amber, topaz and hazel, never strayed from hers. Even when his lips began to kiss a trail across her cheek and over to her neck….

And down the length of that sensitive column, as every nerve ending in her body was humming….

Across her shoulder and down her décolletage to the top of the lace confection where bosom began to swell….

He planted reverent kisses on her skin just above the lace line and his slowly slid up to touch her breasts beneath the scarlet lace. That damn lace. He wanted nothing so much as to tear it from her and let his tongue worship her at will. But…he needed that barrier to maintain his control. So it had to stay where it was…for now. It didn't stop his lips from moving down and licking her through the lace, nor did it stop the blissful noise that came out of her when he sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth, lace cup and all.

She shivered and moved even closer, arching against him, letting their bodies mold into each other to find just the right fit. She understood the yin-yang concept then; how two things so very different and so much the same needed each other for balance and fit. Mentally and physically. Body and soul.

She stretched, placing little kisses on his neck, as she undulated against him, producing the most delicious friction.

It was heaven and it was hell, wanting to be as close to each other as possible, feeling each other's desire despite the material that served as both aphrodisiac and chastity belt.

He was dying, there was no doubt of it. Chuck had never been so hard in his life. And he knew Blair was aware of it, even encouraging it, with her little mewls and the way she was grinding against his cock. And he wanted her to feel it, how much he desired her and how hard she made him.

It seemed they were touching everywhere, their bodies gliding, rubbing, with increasing pressure and arousal. It was less making out and more making love.

She grabbed him by the collar of his fine cotton shirt and pulled him even closer. "I love good tailoring."

"It's bespoke."

She pressed her lips into his neck again and gave him a bite with just a hint of teeth.

"I'm bewitched."

"Feels…so…good." Had she really said that, or was that just his mind and body screaming out for more?

"The French call it…"

"Frottage." It started as whisper and ended as a moan.

"Ah, I love when you speak a foreign tongue….or maybe it's just your tongue." His tongue came out to tease hers as his still-clad cock thrust against her once more.

And then she was screaming her pleasure and collapsing against him once.

She hadn't fully recovered when he began to sit up and disengage from her. A little whine of protest came from her throat and she shivered as she mourned the loss of the heat from his body.

"Blair, you're killing me. This is torture."

She seemed confused.

He reached down and took her hand and then placed it on his crotch. "Do you understand?"

He expected her to nod and then retreat. He didn't expect her to straddle him, push him back down into the duvet and climb back on top of him.

"Perfectly," she purred as she settled against him. "And Chuck…I'm ready for Lesson 2.5 now."

You could've heard a pin drop as she reached down and grasped the tab and slowly, magically eased down his zipper.

TBC in chapter 4

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><p>Cliffhangers are evil, aren't they? Sorry about that, but really this chapter would've gone on forever if I hadn't. Forgive me? Want to throw something at me? The magic review button will give you your chance!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4 Diving In

Happy Holidays, Readers! Hope wherever you are on this lovely planet, that you're enjoying this time of year to the fullest. The last chapter ended in a cliffhanger, which some readers found to be "evil", "cruel" and "crazy" of me. Muhuahaha! Thank you all for sharing your thoughts—I cherish each one of them. Without further ado, allow me to share Lesson 2.5.

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><p>"What is taking you so long?" Blair hissed in his ear.<p>

"Almost got it. Keep your panties on, Waldorf." Chuck was clearly focusing all his attention on the task at hand.

"How can I do that if I'm not wearing any?" He could hear a touch of pout in her purr.

How did she come up with all these sexy little innuendoes? His body responded and his mind blanked. Great, he was never going to get it in at this rate.

"Here, let me help…." Her hand came down and covered his.

And then….he was inside…

The Natatorium of Constance and St. Jude.

Chuck removed the key he'd been fiddling with and pocketed it. They were actually here.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Chuck chose to ignore her comment; she had no idea just how hard 'it' was. "I have to admit that you delivered."

"Of course I did!" She blushed and gave him a little smile.

The evening had started innocently enough with them studying and having dinner at Blair's place. But hours of having their noses to the grindstones had left them mentally fatigued and physically restless. When Chuck expressed longing for a Caribbean vacation and made a comment about how diving always cleared his head, Blair got an idea.

"Maybe we can," she'd suggested.

Chuck looked intrigued but dubious.

Then Blair confessed that Serena had left behind the key to the school's pool during one of their many sleepovers last year and that said key was still in Blair's jewelry box, just waiting to be used.

Sneaking into the school and going for a late-night swim?

It sounded naughty….and tempting.

Chuck didn't care what thickheaded swim team member had managed to lose both Serena and his prized key. He didn't care that he didn't have swim trunks with him. He didn't care about the element of risk associated with breaking and entering into the most exclusive private school in all of Manhattan. He just wanted to dive in and be surrounded by cool water and Blair Waldorf.

Which is how they ended up here, at the pool.

Blair flicked one of the switches on the wall and a set of lights came up. The sound of the switch echoed through the large, empty room and over the still water. It felt eerily quiet.

Chuck and Blair exchanged a glance. They had made it in. All that remained was to suit up, er, down, and slip into the water. Chuck raised a brow and his hand as if to indicate "after you."

To his surprise, Blair blushed and hesitated. "You first."

Where was the vixen who had modeled lingerie for him only days ago?

"I know you put your bathing suit on before we left. What are you afraid of?"

"Me? Nothing. I just feel…exposed…out here in the open."

"We'll go together then," he suggested, starting to unbutton his shirt. His tie had disappeared somewhere in the limo on the drive over.

"C'mon, I dare you." His eyes swept down her fully clothed form before he returned to his own disrobing.

He heard, rather than saw, her slip off her Chanel ballet flats (apparently, Jimmy Choo and Christian Louboutin had been deemed 'not stealthy enough') and then sneaked a peek as she rolled her stockings down. The whisper of the silky fabric revealing her creamy thighs and inch by inch of silky legs was impossible to resist. When her eyes unexpectedly darted up, he was well and truly caught. Busted!

She didn't stop, slowly easing the silk off the ends of her toes and placing the stockings aside. Then she smiled at him. "Your turn, Bass."

He undid the final buttons and tossed his shirt down with her stockings.

Her blazer followed, then she began unbuttoning her white uniform blouse, all the while giving him little smiles and glances. Her smile turned to a smirk and her gaze became more direct when his undershirt dropped onto the pile and his fingers moved to his belt…

And his top button…

And then his zipper. Their eyes met then, knowing each was recalling the night she had given him his own private lingerie fashion show…and so much more.

After that, they couldn't strip fast enough. By the time he'd stepped out of his pants and shucked his shoes and socks, she was just shimmying out of her skirt.

Once again they were a matched set, she in her retro red string bikini with white polka dots and he in a pair of red silk boxers.

"I told you it was my new favorite color," he smirked, noticing her stare. "And the need for swim trunks? Totally overrated. Of course, if I had my way, neither of us would need a suit. Fancy a little skinny dipping tonight?"

"Nooo!" she responded, giving him a shove toward the edge of the pool.

Startled, he toppled over and splashed into the water.

"Chuck? Chuck?!" What had she done?!

A second, or possibly an eternity later, Chuck rolled over, shook some water out of his hair and grinned at her.

"Come on in, the water's fine!"

She went down toward the deeper end of the pool and performed a graceful dive into the water. He was right again, damn it, the water did feel fantastic. The temperature was perfect and there was no one around to make her feel self-conscious. She didn't count Chuck, of course; she found him oddly relaxing and exhilarating at the same time. She never had to pretend with him; she could be completely herself without any fear or judgment or disapproval.

And so it was that when he swam closer and splashed her, she splashed right back with enthusiasm and abandon. This led to a water fight (it was a draw), lap races (she swore he was cheating—really, Chuck Bass was athletic? Who knew?) and just generally enjoying the water and each other.

Then her hair got entangled in the halter strap of her bikini top. She winced, screwed her face into a frown and set about trying to unknot it while trying to stay afloat at the same time. Chuck's hands came up to help as he moved closer to her.

Of course, his version of "helping" involved unknotting the straps and letting them float out in front of her.

She turned to look at him.

"It's just us. Don't tell me you haven't had any mermaid fantasies? Watched 'The Blue Lagoon' and wondered what it would be like to swim around completely free? Now's your chance," he coaxed.

She didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at him, then dipped down beneath the surface of the water and came up sans top, which she tossed to the side edge of the pool.

"There's my sassy mermaid!" Of course he could only see her shoulders and part of her décolletage, but he wanted to see more. And she knew he did…and was teasing him mercilessly. Like the mermaid he had jokingly called her, she swam around him in circles, tagging him and then swimming away, only to return and tag him again.

She was having great fun enjoying her success….until strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

"Mermaids, even the sassiest ones, should know better than to mess with the god of the sea." The words were whispered against her ear.

She turned in his arms to face him. "Oh, is that who I'm dealing with? And here I thought it was just another Bass in the sea." She twisted out of his grip and took off with a laugh. Then he set off after her.

And that was when they heard the echo of approaching footsteps in the building.

They froze and their eyes met, communicating the threat they sensed. And just like that, they went from adversaries to allies again, swimming to the pool's edge and scrambling out, grabbing their pile of clothes. They raced towards one of the supply closets, Chuck sliding in first and pulling Blair after him.

Just in time, for the closet door had barely clicked shut when the door to the pool area opened and Headmistress Queller and another school official walked in.

"You see the problem we are having here," Headmistress Queller began, "Our buildings simply aren't being maintained to standards. Some lights are still on, and there are damp places where the mopping doesn't appear to have dried. It's wasteful…and hazardous."

Behind the closet door, Blair pulled away from Chuck, terror in her eyes, as Queller continued lamenting the negligence of the janitorial staff. She was sure any minute now the door would be swept open and it was "hello, scandal/goodbye, Yale." Her heart was racing as she gripped onto Chuck's shoulder even tighter than ever.

Chuck responded by pulling her in even closer and rubbing circles on her bare back. They were so close the damp hair on his chest was tickling her nipples, making them tighter and eliciting a little sigh from her. In the past, Blair would have pegged herself as preferring a guy with a smooth chest, meticulously manscaped everywhere, but something about the dark hair that covered Chuck's pecs made her feel that she had uncovered something wild and rugged that was usually concealed by flawless tailoring. She was exploring uncharted territory and loving every minute of it.

She angled her face up to his for a kiss, and as always, the magic was instantaneous. She forgot she was standing topless with the school's resident bad boy in a supply room with imminent threat of discovery looming. At least she did until his hands slowly made their way around her body and slid up the silky length of her torso, stopping to cup and caress her breasts.

Both their eyes flew open then, as they realized this was the first time he'd ever touched them without fabric or lace to impede him.

And it felt so good…

So good that Blair let out a little moan, which Chuck promptly stifled with another kiss.

"This kind of behavior will not be tolerated," Queller's voice came through the heavy wooden door.

They both froze again.

"Indeed it should not be," her companion agreed. "We'll speak with the staff in the morning. Let's go."

Then the sound of their footsteps echoed and grew more distant as they exited the pool.

Blair collapsed into Chuck with relief. Suddenly she could breathe again, or she could if he hadn't been kissing her senseless. Then he suddenly stopped, leaving her bereft, until his lips dropped lower and popped one pale pink aureole into his mouth.

Oh, God, if his hands had felt good (and oh, they certainly had), then his lips and tongue were heaven. They laved her slowly at first, then with growing intensity as he sucked and savored her as if she were the sweetest candy he'd ever tasted.

Her moans returned, louder this time, and he paused to grin at her. "You're so beautiful." His normally deep voice sounded raspy and uneven.

She gazed at him at dreamy, unfocused eyes. "Please, please…." She didn't even know what she was requesting, she just knew she needed more.

He looked around the shadowed room and finally found what his eyes were seeking: a stack of rubberized wrestling mats. His hands never leaving her, he sat down and pulled her onto his lap.

Her body settled into his and he began his ministrations all over again, this time on the other nipple. He licked and sucked, alternating between the two hardened peaks. She sighed and made little happy noises and he became so lost in her beauty and pleasure that it took some time to realize that he was lying back and she was atop him, kissing him, winding her fingers through the whorls of hair on his chest, kissing down his stomach, getting closer and closer to the waistband on his sodden boxers.

Then she did it again: she completely took him by surprise.

Just as she had the night of their private lingerie show.

Oh, that night…

She'd already given him a show that would put the Victoria's Secret angels to shame. And he'd already given her several delicious orgasms. But then they had kept grinding against each other, and the full body contact, even through their clothes, was killing him.

He'd needed to stop, to gain some control, and he'd tried to tell her that, but she'd just sat up, indicated that she was ready for Lesson 2.5 and eased down his zipper.

Some sensory memories are so strong they stay with us forever, and forever was about how long he would remember the sound of the zipper's teeth parting, the feel of her soft hands gently reaching in and the gasp they both made when she released his cock and wrapped her hand around it.

Blair was nervous. It wasn't like she hadn't done her homework on the topic. After all, this was supposed to be the #1 sexual act that men desired and fantasized about. She'd read through the literature, from the Kama Sutra to "How to Tickle His Pickle." She'd even watched porn for pointers. But she'd never gotten the chance to practice. Nate seemed nervous and withdrawn any time they got remotely sexual. If not for the whole Serena obsession, sometimes she'd swear he was gay. But at this moment, Nate's past reactions meant nothing.

Because she was in her room, on her bed, in the sexiest of lingerie, with a very, very interested Chuck Bass.

It was the worst possible time to kill the mood, but she felt she had to warn him.

"I've never done this before. I don't know if I'll be any good." The confession was whispered and shrouded in shame.

And then his hand came up and brushed her hair back behind her ear and cupped her cheek. "You'll be perfect; everything you do is perfect. And it's just you and me, remember?" He smiled up at her. "Touch me, Blair."

The tone in his voice sent a shiver through her. She could do this. Yes, she could.

Emboldened by his words, she reached down, parted his fly and reached into the slit in his black silk boxers, drawing out his erection.

If she'd been capable of speech at that moment, she would have said it was beautiful, the rock hard length of him, the weight of him in her hand, the smooth warmth. But all she could do was stare and wrap her fingers around him and begin to gently stroke him.

He took as deep a breath as he could manage. He must be hallucinating. It couldn't be real. He could not be lying on Blair Waldorf's bed, under a smiling Blair, who was giving him the first hand job of her life and driving him completely insane.

She went slowly at first, a little tentative, trying to gauge his reactions, to see how best to touch him, to see what pleased him.

But everything she did seemed to please him, so she relaxed and let herself explore at will. From the base to the tip, from his balls to the sensitive ridge around the head, she left no part unattended. Eventually, she added her other hand, experimenting with different pressure and patterns.

He lay there, looking up at her in wonder, eyes locked on hers.

It felt so very intimate….that she was tempted…oh so tempted…to taste him.

So she did.

Her lips came down and placed a feather-light kiss on the tip. He shuddered. Then she exhaled and the purr of her breath made him shudder again.

And then her tongue came out to play, exploring the head with leisure, teasing the underside, discovering that little groove that seemed to be made just for her tongue, and delighting in it all.

His breathing became ragged and heavy and he knew he wouldn't last for long. So he pulled her up beside him, secretly thrilled when she made a little whimper of disappointment and wrapped her hand around him once more. Their lips met and all control was lost.

He let out a sound that was part roar, part battle cry and all pleasure. It was the sexiest sound she'd ever heard. If only she could hear it again and again….

Then she looked down at her hand, still wrapped around him and now covered with creamy strands still warm from his body. She wanted to stretch and purr and curl up next to him. She wanted to fly.

Her smile could not be wider; she had just made Chuck Bass come.

It was all he had thought about for days afterward. He was beginning to wonder if it were possible to become addicted to a person, because being without Blair brought about the worst kind of withdrawal.

But now here they were, happily entwined in each other. Her hands slid down his chest…torso…stomach…hips…and back to the top of his boxers, where her fingers got a firm grip on his waistband and began to tug downwards.

Chuck needed no other encouragement to assist her, raising his hips as he watched her bite her upper lip as she yanked the boxers down and tossed them to the side. And then her mouth was on his cock again, licking and sucking and teasing. Gone was the tentative and timid and in its stead was passion and single-minded intensity. It was all he could do not to come then and there.

He could do this, he told himself. He forced his heart rate to slow down. When his hands encountered the saucy strings on her bikini bottoms, he forced them up to stroke the damp locks of her hair, fanning it out with his fingers. And he looked at her beautiful face, at those deep, dark eyes shining back at him, at the roses of her cheeks, at her lush lips wrapped around him. And up went his heart rate again. He had absolutely no control where she was concerned.

"Blair," he whispered, trying to push her away.

She resisted. "Please," she whispered, "I want to taste you."

Even if he hadn't already been close, those sexy words coming from that beautiful, beguiling mouth would've sent him straight over the edge.

She swallowed every drop of his essence, licked her lip, and then, of all things, blushed as she looked at him.

How could she be shy and so seductive at the same time? It was surreal, and if he were dreaming, then he never, ever wanted to wake up. Still holding her, he sat up slowly and pulled her closer to him, stopping to kiss her gently on the mouth.

They stayed like that for a few moments, allowing themselves to catch their breath and return to earth.

"Chuck, I think we should go home now. There's tempting fate and there's baiting it. The coast should be clear now."

He was disappointed; he couldn't lie. If given the chance, he'd lie there with her all night and return the favors she'd so generously and passionately bestowed on him. He was so, so ready for Lesson #3. But he didn't argue, simply gathered his things and prepared to dress and go.

Being a fashionable young lady, she took a few more minutes to get herself presentable and ready to go. As they left, he took her hand in his and led her back toward the back of the building where the limo was waiting down the block. It only seemed natural to keep her hand in his on the drive home, even when she piped up out of nowhere and said, "I'm hungry. Could we stop for pie? Do you have an appetite?"

Hell, yes, he did, and it was all for the brunette beside him, but if the chocolate silk she desired came with a crust and whipped cream topping, he wasn't going to turn her down. He rolled down the partition and signaled Arthur to find the closest late-night restaurant or diner with baked goods.

The next day appeared to start normally enough. A little history, a little French, a volley of flirty texts at lunch, some secret smiles about their activities from the night before.

Then the summons came.

Could Miss Waldorf please come down to the Headmistress' Office?

Did Miss Waldorf have a choice? Blair sighed, collected her books and made her way down to the first floor office suite. Surely they just wanted to check on the planning committee's progress on the Winter Mixer? They couldn't possibly know about the late-night swim. She and Chuck had made their escape…and found a diner with the most delicious custard pie and they'd laughed as they shared it…and…she was completely off-topic now. Luckily, she had arrived at the Headmistress' door.

The door was ajar, so she stuck her head in. "Headmistress Queller? You wanted to see me?"

"Miss Waldorf. Do come in and take a seat. You may shut the door behind you."

Well, that certainly sounded like business. Blair sat, swallowed nervously and smoothed her uniform skirt. She was calm, she was composed, she was….sitting across the table from a man she recognized as the Headmaster of St. Jude's and Bart Bass himself!

Oh, dear God, it was expulsion for sure. There could be no other reason why Bart Bass would be out of his office (when had he even gotten back into the country?!) and in his son's school on a weekday afternoon.

"Miss Waldorf," Bart nodded.

"Blair, is there anything you'd like to tell us about?" Queller began.

"I don't believe so. We've just started meeting to organize the Winter Mixer, so I haven't much to report…" Her daddy had always said, "Admit nothing until they've shown they have evidence. Then call a lawyer." It sounded like good advice to her.

"Blair, we're not all here to discuss your committee work." Queller waved to indicate Mr. Bass and the Headmaster of St. Jude's. "Would you call yourself a good friend to Mr. Bass's son, Charles?"

"Of course," Blair didn't even have to think about that. "We've been friends since we were children."

"How far would you be willing to go to help a friend?" This question came from the Headmaster.

She wouldn't do his homework or have sex with him, she'd told Chuck that, but even she had to admit her resolve was getting steadily weaker on the latter. Especially after the last couple of lessons….

She coughed softly. "I really don't understand?" She was the picture of confusion.

"Miss Waldorf, in the past weeks, young Mr. Bass' academic standing has shot up. Way up. His attendance is near perfect, all his assignments are in, and the quality of the assignments is considerably improved. Even his test scores have totally turned around." The Headmaster got right to the point: "Have you played some role in this?"

"We've been studying together, and I've been tutoring him in Pre-Calc," she started to explain.

Queller snorted and dumped an essay on the desk in front of Blair. "Please read this aloud."

Blair looked at the trio in front of her, picked up the papers and began to read. It was an English Literature essay on Jane Austen's "Emma" and the author expressed the opinion that Emma's "faults" were those of strength, not weakness, and that the other characters, Mr. Knightley especially, were "fools to want her to be anything other than what she was."

As she read, Blair's initially nervous voice grew stronger and more confident, pride coming though in every syllable. He had written it, and written it well, and it seemed that his theme was inspired by Blair herself—or at least it did to Blair. When she finished, she placed the papers back on the desk with a flourish and smiled at her accusers.

"I'd say he did an excellent job."

"Did you discuss this theme with him, perhaps? Maybe suggest examples?" Bart was giving her his best shark impression. Thank God Chuck had gotten his looks from his mother.

"No, sir, I did not. We watched the films together, but that was the extent of our collaboration. I wrote about "Persuasion" and the importance of listening to one's heart."

The trio still looked dubious.

Blair lost her temper. "Look, frankly this is insulting to both of us. Sir, you've had Chuck as a student in your school for how many years? And you're still unaware of his potential?" she addressed the Headmaster, before turning to Queller, "And if you are still uncertain of my integrity at this late date…." She snorted. "And you, you are his father. He deserves someone who believes in him and will stand up for him. The tutoring help I've given him wasn't one-sided; he's been helping me with my statistics homework. He's very good at it. Did you know he reads the Bass Industries reports every quarter and has for some time?" She paused and looked around the office, at the shocked faces looking back at her. "It seems to me if there is cheating going on here, it is you cheating us of your good faith. You should be ashamed."

Blair stood to her feet, only then realizing that Chuck had slipped into the room and was standing behind her.

She picked up her purse and tote and turned to him. "Oh, good, you're here. There was some misunderstanding earlier, but I feel it's been cleared up?" She turned back to the desk, where the school officials nodded somewhat uncomfortably and even Bart Bass inclined his head her way in grudging assent.

Blair looked at the clock on the wall. "There isn't much time left today, so if no one objects, Chuck and I will be leaving early." Her tone dared anyone to voice an objection. Then she turned, took Chuck's proffered arm and the pair walked out of the office and down the hall, only it was more like a royal procession than a mere walk.

When they got out of earshot, he couldn't contain himself any longer. "You were…amazing in there."

She grinned. "Thanks. I can't believe them. I just got so angry."

"Thank you for defending my honor. Where to now? How about an early dinner before we start on tonight's lessons?" The look in his eye told her he meant more than English Literature.

"You know I've always been a vocal proponent of education. Lead the way."

They smiled at each other, both unaware that other students had turned to stop and stare their way. They were flying high on another victory. It was them against the world, and the world didn't stand a chance.

But not all the students were simply standing still. One was actually pursuing them as the school's main doors loomed ever closer.

"Blair! Chuck! What's going on?" Nate sounded winded and confused. "Where are you going? Blair, don't you remember we're supposed to have dinner with my parents tonight?"

"Um, no, I didn't remember. It's been a hectic afternoon." Blair sounded disconnected as she turned to Chuck apologetically. "I know we were going to study, but….rain check?"

Chuck felt nearly seasick from the emotions that shot through him with frightening speed and intensity. First came shock, then disappointment and finally, downright fury. How dare Nate show up now and take Blair when he'd been mostly absent from her life for weeks now? Wasn't there Serena or some other vapid blonde for him to moon over? Really, if he wanted Serena so much, why didn't he just go screw Serena and leave Blair alone?

Chuck warred with the urge to scream at his best friend and punch him in the face. He tried to get his breathing under control, to force some polite words from his lips. He looked at Blair, still holding his arm and looking torn. He needed to let her go, to go with Nate. It was what she wanted and had been working for forever. But how was he supposed to do that when his chest felt like it had a gaping wound and his mind kept screaming, "Mine!"?

He paused, but the words just weren't coming. He simply nodded and started to detach from Blair. Was it only in his imagination that she looked disappointed and her fingers seemed to cling and not want to let go? It felt like she was being painfully ripped from him, like everything was being taken away.

"Hey, thanks, man. We'll catch up soon, alright?"

Again, Chuck just nodded and watched them go.

He didn't know that his father was watching him from down the hall with a knowing and sympathetic look that was quite foreign to his austere face.

To Be Continued in Chapter 5

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><p>More delicious than a partridge in a pear tree: "On the first day of Christmas, my reader gave to me…a review in my email queue!" I think it's kind of catchy!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5 Masks Off

Greetings, readers! Happy New Year! Hope 2015 is a wonderful year for you. I want to thank everyone for the lovely response to chapter 4. The wonderful Cosmokaramel created the perfect graphic for it on Twitter at /parisinthe1920s/status/551507031430270976 In case anyone was wondering, I do not own Gossip Girl, because if I did, there would've been more CB than 40something seconds in 1x06. Ready for Lesson #3 plus a little extra homework? Hurray for education!

* * *

><p>Chapter 5: Masks Off<p>

Two scotches in and he was still trying to figure out what happened.

One minute, he and Blair had been on top of the world, arm in arm, on their way to dinner and the much anticipated Lesson #3—oh, how he was looking forward to Lesson #3!—and the next, Nate had swooped in, ruined his dinner (and lesson) plans and worst of all, stolen his—

What?

His girl.

Chuck's mouth couldn't quite form the words, but his mind could and it was seething at the thought that his Blair was out right now being wined and dined by some -wearing, lacrosse-playing, blonde-chasing scion of a family straight out of The Social Register and the political section of The Washington Post.

In vain did he remind himself that the 'other guy' was his longstanding best friend, the one who'd stood by him when he didn't have anyone else. Sure, Nate was no Albert Einstein, but he was certainly more fun at parties. If you were to ask Chuck prior to this, what mattered most to him, he'd rattle off "money, the pleasures money brought and Nathaniel."

But now the scales had changed and suddenly there was something so prized that it topped money, pleasures and his old friend combined. The devil playboy of Manhattan had given a lesson to the virgin and now he was the one who couldn't forget. Oh, he could forget many things—his reputation and his best friend, to name a couple—but he couldn't seem to forget her.

And he needed to. This called for more scotch.

He grabbed the decanters, poured a couple fingers and swirled it around. Ah, liquid oblivion. He downed it in a single gulp, welcoming its bitey feel as it burned down his throat, almost making his ears ring.

But wait, that wasn't his ears buzzing….it was….an incoming text!

It was a picture….and some words. He shook his head as if to clear it and tried to read it once more.

"SORRY ABOUT DINNER. STILL HUNGRY? ;)"

He looked at the picture. It was a familiar pair of creamy thighs dressed up in patterned silk stockings.

"Mmm, my favorite dish. Always."

The phone chimed again. "CAN I CALL YOU WHEN I GET HOME?"

"I'll be waiting…and hungry."

* * *

><p>An eternity later—or was it only 90 minutes?—Chuck's phone rang.<p>

"I'm sorry I'm so late. Service was slow, and traffic was torture." She sounded breathless, like she'd been rushing. It made him feel a little breathless too.

"So how was dinner?"

"Unsatisfying. I'm still hungry." He could hear the pout in her voice. God, he loved the pout in her voice. Was she talking about dessert…or other things? He was very much hoping it was the latter.

"For food or…?" He let her savor the pause.

"For knowledge. I was promised a lesson tonight, remember?"

As if he could forget for even a millisecond.

"But now it's almost 11…and you're miles away…"

2.7 miles, to be exact. 14-19 minutes, depending on traffic and route. Even if he'd been blindfolded, he felt sure he could still find his way to her.

"And yet here we are on the same phone connection. I'd hate to see lose out on valuable study time. Maybe we could do a little homework instead?"

He heard her sharp intake of breath and knew that she knew exactly what he was referring to.

Silence.

More silence.

Oh, dear God, please don't let her say no.

"I'm kind of overdressed for 'homework'."

He let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "There's a remedy for that, you know. C'mon, strip down to your skivvies for me."

If the devil sounded like Chuck Bass—and Blair very much suspected he did—the world would truly be a decadent and corrupt place.

There was rustling as she put down her phone and started removing her clothing. And Chuck Bass, devil though he may be, was convinced he was in heaven.

"What are you wearing now?"

"More than last night, but less than this afternoon." Her voice was practically a whisper.

"Tease! Give me a hint."

Who could resist such a sexy demand? "Two words: lavender silk."

The only fabric that could rival her glorious skin and still not best it. He swallowed. "Touch it for me."

There was a slight rustle and a little sigh.

"You're awfully bossy, Bass. When do I get to make the demands?"

"Anytime you like. Far be it from me to try to keep a good woman down, unless, of course…."

She ignored the innuendo, or tried to. "If you were here…"

"It would be a good evening indeed."

"If you were here," she tried again, "what would you do first?"

"Well, after drinking in the sight of you in that lavender silk, I'd have to kiss those perfect lips of yours. I could kiss them all night long, except…."

"Except?"

"Your neck would tempt me. The smell of your perfume, that little pulse pumping away where your neck meets your shoulder…"

Oh, yes, her pulse was definitely rising as he spoke.

"Then I'd kiss my way across your collar bone….down your décolletage…all the way down to those pretty tits."

She gasped then, and said the first thing that came to her mind. "But they're too small!"

"My tongue would beg to differ. And my hands would say they're a perfect fit. Are you touching them for me right now, Blair?"

"Mm hmm."

"I'd be taking my time, cupping them, brushing them with my thumbs…. Tell me how they feel right now."

"They're all…tight….and drawn up into little peaks." She let out a little moan.

"The better for me to suck them into my mouth. Lick your fingers for me, Blair, and touch them again."

She didn't hesitate this time, then she moaned again.

"It felt so good…when we were at the pool. Nothing feels better than your tongue."

Now he couldn't breathe and was hard beyond belief. He reached down to unbutton and unzip. God, would he ever stop thinking about the look on her face when she'd unzipped him. He didn't think so.

"You felt so good. You have no idea how much I wanted to untie those bikini strings."

"Why didn't you?"

"There's only so much temptation a human being can stand. What sweet little panties are you wearing today?"

"Dark purple. Satin."

"I'd like to slide my thumbs right under the top of them and slip them down those silky legs. Are you still wearing your lacy stockings?"

"Yes."

"And have you slipped those panties off yet?"

"They're already on the floor."

"And you're playing with your clit and giving it all the naughty attention it deserves?"

"Yesss." The word was hissed.

"You're wanton."

"Because I'm wanting you." Was it possible to get twice as hard in half a second. He wanted her so much he ached.

"Touch yourself, Blair, and tell me…are you wet?"

"So wet. For you. Are you hard for me?"

"Always." He was on the phone with the fabled Ice Princess, and she was talking dirty, pleasuring herself and purring in his ear—was there any other way to be?!

"If you were here…," she paused on a ragged breath, "I would want…," another moan, "to go down on you again."

"If I were there…I would kiss and lick and nip my way up those legs…and then I would spread your thighs and let my tongue—"

She screamed. A long, keening cry that sent him coming right along with her.

There was a moment of silence.

"And then what?" Her whisper was all the more seductive for her not having totally regained her breath yet.

He laughed. "I'm saving it."

"For what?!" She was indignant.

"Lesson #3." There was just a trace of smug in his voice.

"When will that be?! The wait is excruciating."

"Don't you think there's some excruciating pleasure in waiting?" Clearly he was baiting her.

"Hmm," she scoffed.

"Don't be mad," he cajoled, "The wait is torturing me."

"Good! As in goodnight, Bass!"

"I think it was, don't you? And Blair, thanks again for this afternoon."

"It's like in chess, Bass: the queen always protects the king." The sassy retort was belied by the affectionate undertone in her voice.

Something strange was happening in Chuck's chest and for a moment he couldn't speak.

"Goodnight, Chuck."

"Goodnight, Blair."

* * *

><p>"You may as well give up now; you're never going to win!" Nate taunted as he made another seemingly effortless basket and furthered his already large lead over his best friend.<p>

"Ah, but I'm never giving up, Nathaniel, which is precisely why I will win….eventually." Chuck sounded winded, but managed to get the ball back before Nate collided into him and knocked them both to the ground.

"Can we just take a break?"

"You giving up?" Chuck was prepared to offer mercy.

"Nope, just taking a breather."

They both sat down on the edge of the sidewalk that bordered the basketball court.

"You got your mask for the ball tonight?"

"Have you ever known me to be unprepared?"

"Guess not. I wish I knew what Blair was wearing. She won't tell me." Nate sounded just a bit pouty.

"Keeping secrets, huh?" Chuck tried to sound casual, but he was kind of surprised.

"She said she wants a 'fresh start', so she's leaving clues for me to find her before midnight."

And knowing Nate, it would take until midnight…one day next week. What was Blair thinking? Sending Nate on a scavenger hunt was pretty much like Clue for the clueless.

"Wanna come along and help with the clues?"

"No, thanks. I have a busy night planned. Don't even know if I'll make it there." While Chuck was tempted to go and see Nate bungle his way through "Where's Blair?," having a front row seat to the eventual romantic rendezvous was the very last thing he wanted.

Suddenly, Chuck was done with the game. He tossed the ball in Nate's direction. "I concede. Now let's go rehydrate."

* * *

><p>He wasn't going to the masquerade ball. He'd made up his mind.<p>

When Blair had texted in the afternoon, he'd replied, "Sorry, won't be there." And he'd meant it.

But now it was 11 p.m. and he'd been driving all over the city for hours and he was bored out of his mind….and dying of curiosity to know what she was wearing tonight.

The venue for the ball was on the way home. And his devil's mask sat on the seat next to him. It couldn't hurt anything to stop by for a few moments, say hello to friends….

Next thing he knew, he was making his way through the ballroom, stopping to chat a few times but always searching, searching….

Suddenly, a flash of yellow gown and yellow hair, followed by his best friend, and yet another yellow flash. So Nate was here…and chasing…Jenny?...Serena?...his own tail? That meant somewhere Blair was here, gloriously alone….

And then he saw the door marked "STAIRS" and he knew where to try next.

When he climbed the stairs and opened the door at the top, he realized where he was: the roof.

It was dimly lit, but there were a few chairs and lounges scattered about and music from the ball below pumped through speakers. And there she was, like the night had come to life and stepped right in front of him. She was facing away from him, so at first all he saw was a shadowy silhouette, then his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could take in the details, from the tiara and feathers on her highly piled hair, down that regal neck to a dress that shimmered with sequins and flared out to a short skirt under a lace overskirt that showcased the dainty boots on her feet.

The bronze zipper against the jet black of her ensemble was an invitation, a reminder that he had only to reach out and pull the tab and reveal more of her to him. He managed to resist and moved behind her to place a light kiss on her neck.

"She walks in beauty, like the night…." He breathed the words against her ear.

She whirled around then, and time seemed to stop. He completely forgot the rest of the poem, because she was pure poetry:

The contrast of the midnight black fabric against her skin.

The sparkle of the headpiece that was something more than a tiara yet still shy of a crown, and the matching bracelets on her wrists.

The regal spray of feathers that seemed to spout up from a sea of shiny, dark ringlets.

Elegant satin opera gloves that ended just above the elbow in a swath of playful black feathers.

The full, lacy overskirt that revealed more than it concealed.

Ebony boots with buttons winding up her shapely legs.

She was perfect from head to toe.

And then his object of perfection slapped him on the arm. Hard.

"Where is Nate? And why are you here? I thought you couldn't be bothered, with your 'busy schedule' tonight." She sounded irked.

"Whoa, take it easy there. Nate is downstairs, chasing his own tail, no doubt. And I am here because…," he gestured towards her, "Well, how could I resist? You look ravishing. If I were your man, I wouldn't need games or clues to find you." He was practically purring in her ear.

Despite the opera gloves, goosebumps rose on her arms, and she suddenly had trouble breathing. She slapped him again for good measure.

"Beautiful and mean? I've got chills. Care to dance with a poor devil?"

She scoffed. "A poor devil, no. But you I might make an exception for." He could hear the smile return to her voice.

Then it was gone. "But I'm supposed to be waiting for Nate." Was she reminding herself or him?

"He's downstairs and probably will be for some time to come. In the meantime, we've got music and moonlight and it would be terrible to waste them. C'mon." He pulled the handle of her mask out of her hand and away from her face. "You don't need this thing covering up your face."

"It's supposed to conceal your identity," she reached up and touched the edge of his devil's mask where it met his cheekbones, "Not advertise it! I still can't believe you're up here, and not chasing after some hot girls downstairs."

"I already know where the hottest girl is at this ball; she's standing right in front of me."

She flushed and said nothing.

"Dance with me," he cajoled.

He didn't have to ask twice.

She moved into his arms and, as always, he was struck by just how right she felt there. With one of his arms around her and the other holding her gloved hand, they began to sway to the music.

_I'm under your skies,_

_I'm caught in your eyes._

_Don't you know you stop the room,_

_And all that I can see is you._

He twirled her around, the tips of their fingers touching, and she gave a little laugh. This heady feeling…was this what 'dancing with the devil' meant? If so, she never wanted to stop.

He pulled her back in close, and she reached up behind him, untying the black ribbons that held his mask in place. It was in her hands and she flung it to the side, not caring where. And then the devil was unmasked and looking back at her was Chuck's visage. She drank in every detail, from the way his hair fringed across his forehead, to those burning eyes that were sometimes amber/sometimes hazel, to the planes of his cheekbones, to his wonderful mouth that was curved up into a private smile just for her. In that moment, she felt like the devil was just a disguise that hid the man beneath the mask.

Again and again, they whirled on the concrete rooftop, coming apart and back together with innate grace and unspoken partnership.

_I'm standing where the lightning strikes._

_I know this doesn't happen twice._

_You must be my once in a lifetime._

_You must be my once in a lifetime._

As the song faded, he swept her into a deep dip, their faces mere inches from each other.

There was only way the dance could end.

And it did.

In a kiss.

It shouldn't feel this way, Blair thought, the sudden rush of heat and the euphoria that was almost…relief. Relief that she could stop pretending this hadn't been what she was thinking about all day.

He felt it too, except his was coupled with fear. Fear that once he started kissing her he couldn't stop and that something so amazing couldn't be real and he'd open his eyes and it would all be over. So he didn't open them; he just kept kissing her, tasting her, letting his tongue dance with hers as their bodies did the same.

She was getting dizzy, though whether from the deep kisses or the dancing or some intoxicating combination of the two was anyone's guess. She broke away from him for a moment and he looked puzzled, until she pulled him down beside her on a bench near the wall and began kissing him again.

It was one of the things that he adored most about her: she was passionate and she didn't hide it from him. Blair was so responsive to everything he did.

When he kissed his way across her cheek.

When he whispered, "Hello, beautiful," against the shell of her ear.

When he worshipped her neck with his lips and tongue until they both moaned.

When his hands slid down her curves and pulled her closer to him.

When she climbed into his lap and writhed against him, purring in his ear.

When his hand came up and slowly peeled one satin glove all the way down her arm, taking his time and savoring the creamy skin underneath. He planted little kisses from her elbow all the way down to the pulse point on her wrist, across her palm and then he lightly kissed each fingertip on her trembling hand.

By the time he'd repeated the process with her other hand, she was quivering all over.

And then he swirled his tongue on her thumb and bit it gently, all the while holding her other hand. He was still holding her hand, their fingers intertwined, even when they began kissing again, when he whispered in her ear once more.

"There's something I've been wanting to do."

She said nothing, just looked at him with encouragement in those midnight eyes.

"Blair, I want to taste you. Will you let me?"

She didn't speak, couldn't speak, so she just nodded and kissed him again.

He broke off the kiss, removed his jacket and slid to the end of the bench, pushing up her lace overskirt. "This skirt is driving me mad. It shows me what I want to touch and then blocks me from doing so."

She gave him a naughty, coquettish smile. "I never took the great Chuck Bass as someone who could be stopped by a little bit of lace."

"Well, there's actually quite a bit of lace here," he defended, spreading the fabric out and running his fingers over it, "But it's not going to stop me."

Again, he pushed the lace out of his way and took one boot-clad foot into his hands. He ran them over the buttery soft leather, up to the tops and eased down the zipper.

Suddenly, Blair looked panicked, glancing over at the door to the stairwell.

"Don't worry, it's just us here. And even if every single person at that party downstairs were to come through that door right now, do you know what they'd see? They'd see the most beautiful, powerful woman here spread out and being pleasured as she should be. And they wouldn't be able to look away." He took her leg and kissed his way down a path that had been cleared by the parted zipper, before slipping off the boot and placing it under the bench.

He made the threat of discovery, such a taboo, sound delicious. She almost wanted it to happen then, but then he was removing her other boot and kissing his way up her leg.

"Lace stockings? A nice touch," his compliment was sincere and she responded with a playful smirk.

Then he was at the top of the thigh-high, where the hosiery gave way to the heaven that was her silky skin.

"Do you remember what I said last night on the phone? How I'm going to kiss and lick and nibble my way all the way up…?"

She gasped.

"I always keep my promises." He pushed her short underskirt up even further and prepared to make good on his word.

She spread her legs wider to give him better access and shamelessly watched through the lace curtain of her overskirt as he lavished her upper thighs with his promised attentions, all the while caressing her outer thighs and kneading that perfectly perfect ass of hers.

The panties were going to have to go—there was no question about it. That little strip of black lace might be a complement to her ensemble, but to Chuck it was just another obstacle. He reached up and tugged on the waistband, but it didn't give way fast enough, so he tried again with more force. The lace not only gave away, one side seam ripped completely. Impatiently, he peeled the ruined undergarment from her and discreetly pocketed it in his pants.

"Chuck!" Blair admonished.

"I buy you another pair. I'll buy you dozens of pairs. I'll buy you La Perla, Agent Provacateur and Lingerie Karine if you like."

"Careful, Bass. You make extravagant promises when you're under my skirt."

"I promise I'm going to make you feel very good, and that's more than a promise, it's a statement of fact."

She wanted to watch and enjoy her ringside seat to his quest, but as he got ever closer to her center, all her good intentions flew out the window. Her eyes squeezed shut and her head fell back and when his velvety tongue flicked out to taste her essence, she was sure she was going to die from the awe of it all.

And he was just getting started.

It tickled for a moment and her thighs involuntarily squeezed around him and for a second he couldn't breathe. Dying from Blair Waldorf's thighs only meant he was already in heaven.

She relaxed then and he spread her legs even wider, going to back to explore and lick and taste.

He was very thorough and no inch of her was neglected. She was right: nothing felt like his tongue and he was oh so talented with it. He knew exactly how to send shivers through her with the light touch of his breath on her sex, his tongue parting her folds, caressing her clit and then sweeping up inside her. Then doing it all again and again.

She writhed against him, her hands coming down and stroking his hair through the lace, sometimes pulling it. Pleasure radiated through her and she felt like there was nothing in the universe except her and Chuck Bass and…heaven help her, that tongue.

It stroked her and teased her, a marvelous combination soft and firm, arousing every nerve ending and making her body sing, until finally, with one final, amazing sweep of his tongue, she came apart in his arms, suffused with warmth and screaming out her bliss.

And then she couldn't seem to move. She felt limp and lethargic. She let him disengage from her skirts and sit up, pulling her against him and they sat there, just quietly holding each other.

"What time is it?" she eventually asked.

Midnight had come and gone a half hour before. And Nate had never showed. Worse, she hadn't even given him a thought. She seemed to develop some sort of Natenesia whenever she was with Chuck. And she couldn't even seem to care. She just wanted to stay there on the roof, wrapped around Chuck.

"Chuck?"

"Hmm?"

"Was that Lesson #3?"

"It was." He kissed her hand.

"It was worth the wait."

They smiled at each other for a long moment before Chuck stood up and gently took her hands, helping Blair to her feet. She shook her dress out and smoothed the lace back down. After retrieving his jacket, Chuck played lady's maid and fetched Blair's boots and gloves. His eyes lingered as she slipped back into them.

She noticed. "What?!"

"Just enjoying the reverse striptease, and remembering how much fun it was to watch them come off."

She pretended to ignore him and look for the missing feathers from her hair. After finding two mangled plumes, she wrote the others off and set about locating her mask. A couple minutes later, they were going down the staircase hand in hand, being extra careful since all the masks had been removed at midnight.

Nate was nowhere to be seen. "It appears Cinderella has lost her coach. Do you need a ride home?"

"Alone in the back of a limo with you at well past midnight?" she threw him a smile. "I'd say that situation is…loaded with possibilities." And then she winked at him.

As they slipped out the back entrance and walked around the block to Chuck's waiting limo, neither noticed the dark figure that began snapping photos.

* * *

><p>The next morning Bart Bass was reading financial reports and sipping his morning coffee when the manila envelope was placed beside his plate. He muttered his thanks, opened the flap and began going over the contents inside. A dozen photos. All of the same couple, arm in arm, on a dark street. In a couple of shots, their faces could be clearly seen from the light of a nearby streetlamp. They were beaming at each other. Bart almost didn't recognize the young man with the wide smile as his son. He certainly never wore that expression any time before that Bart could recall. And it was echoed on Miss Waldorf's face.<p>

It was all very, very interesting.

To Be Continued in Chapter 6

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><p>Special thanks go out to Chrys1130 for talking me down when I freak out that I've forgotten Blair's panties are on at a very pivotal moment; to svenjen for her generous support and keen editing eye; to narsuess for the line about the "devil playboy of Manhattan" and his inability to forget a certain UES virgin; to Moozanna for the GG fashion consultation; and to ChuckBlair08lover for her smile-inducing enthusiasm.<p>

To all my readers, thanks for every single review, favorite and follow. Some of the reviews made me cry because you were as excited about Chuck and Blair's emotional bond as their physical one. Let me know what you think of Chapter 5. Reviews make me all warm and fuzzy inside, and it's cold January day.


	6. Chapter 6 Dreams and Realities

Meanwhile, in the Tutorverse, things take a turn from the very physical to the very emotional. Welcome back, students! Note: a couple lines of dialogue were borrowed from 1x07, Victor Victrola.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6<p>

The fine residents of Manhattan's Upper East Side were unaccustomed to seeing Chuck Bass leaving at dawn. Returning home, perhaps, but definitely not departing. But sure enough, there was the Bass limo pulling up to the curb on Fifth Avenue.

As if that were not shocking enough, Miss Blair Waldorf, dressed for school success, stepping into said limo was enough to send society straight for the smelling salts.

She slid in beside the scion of the Bass family and adjusted the already perfect red bow on her headband.

"I had no idea you were such an early riser, Bass."

"Surely you know by now that I'm willing to rise for you anytime." He raised an eyebrow and the corner of his lips.

She gave him a playful, halfhearted slap. "What was so important that we had to meet before school? You know, I don't just roll out of bed looking like this. An outlay of time and effort is required."

"Sorry, you lost me at "bed" and "roll."

There was a second slap.

"Relax, my fair Waldorf. I want your opinion on a new project of mine. Besides, I had Arthur stop at Alice's Tea Cup for some Trafalgar Square tea and you know how you love their triple berry scones."

"Did you remember the raspberry jam and clotted cream?"

"Would I be permitted to live if I didn't?"

She said nothing, but graced him with a smile.

Before long, the limo pulled to a stop in front of a rather unimpressive brown brick building sandwiched between two taller buildings. The sign on the front read, ironically enough, "Signs"

Blair looked around and wrinkled her nose. "The Lower East Side? Chuck, you know I have a tendency to break out in hives the further we get from Museum Mile."

"Give it a chance. C'mon, you'll see."

He led her inside the double doors past the bar and watched as her eyes took everything in.

"You want your father to invest in a strip joint? How Midtown."

"Not a strip joint, a burlesque club. A respectable place where people can be transported to another time. Free to let loose. No judgment. Pure escape." The last words were purred in her ear.

She ignored the ripple that coursed through her veins. "Well, it does have franchise potential."

"Come see the rest." He led her further into building, where the bar gave way to an expansive space with a parquet floor, gold velvet curtains, glittering chandeliers, scattered lounge chairs and intimate u-shaped booths. Elaborate balustrades on the second level revealed more cozy alcoves lined in nostalgic wallpaper.

She twirled around on the parquet floor, inspecting things from every angle. "I am impressed."

"Good, because this is the part where you come in."

"Me?" She looked at him quizzically.

"Both the interior and exterior need some refurbishing before this place is ready to be worthy of the Bass nameplate. I need someone to help me make that happen, someone to help design a brand that says 'decadent escape', someone who knows style. Someone like you." He looked at her expectantly.

"But, Chuck, I've never done anything like that before!"

"Really?" Chuck raised his eyebrow. "Like you don't have a half dozen scrapbooks under your bed where you've planned out your future world down to the smallest detail. You probably had your first child's nursery designed by the time you started wearing your first bra."

She flushed and looked away. Sometimes he really was too discerning. She'd never considered her drawings and notes to be actual designing before.

"Tell me what you see in your head. What's the first thing you'd change?"

"The façade outside. I'd get rid of that horrible sign and put up an awning, maybe aubergine, with a bronze plaque with a Victrola on it—discreetly sized, but enough to make people curious about this place."

He simply listened and let her continue.

"I'd leave the bar alone…and the gold velvet curtains. Refinish the parquet. Add some vintage wallpaper. Maybe a red and gold color theme—something to capture the light from the chandelier. I'd want coming here to feel like retro decadence…timeless style….like Paris in the 1920s."

"You understand perfectly. So…will you help me? You know we make a great team."

"Of course I will! Do you think your father will go for it?"

"This is just the kind of original thinking that got him started. I've been waiting a long time for an opportunity like this."

"I think it's brilliant. And he will too. Oh, look, we're running late! Are you coming with me?"

"Nope. Gonna pitch it to him this morning. Come over tonight. I'll tell you how it goes and we can start celebrating your birthday early."

"I wouldn't miss it." She leaned closer to him and placed a kiss on his cheek, one hand lightly tracing his jaw. "For luck," she whispered, "Not that you'll need it."

Then she was gone and Chuck pulled out his phones to start making plans.

It was going to be an amazing day.

* * *

><p>It had been an amazingly long day, Blair thought, as she gave a cursory knock before entering Suite 1812.<p>

"Sorry I'm so late...," her voice trailed off as she surveyed the room.

The first thing that struck her was that the room was very dim…and quiet…and smelled overpoweringly of scotch.

"Chuck?"

There was movement on the sofa. Chuck was indeed here, but it wasn't the same Chuck who'd brought her tea and scones this morning and been so enthusiastic about his business plan. This Chuck was rumpled, missing a bowtie and wearing a sardonic expression on his unshaven face.

"So pleased you could finally join me." His tone was mocking and bitter.

"Like I texted, Nate needed someone to go with him to visit his grandfather. I never expected it would take so long."

"You never do." Anger lent an edge to his comment.

"The whole thing was awkward and I can see why Nate didn't want to go alone….anyway, I'm here now, and ready to talk Victrola…." She wasn't going to let his mood bring her down.

"There will be no Victrola. My father jettisoned the whole plan." His tone was even, but it couldn't quite cover the underlying disappointment and contempt.

"What?! Why?" Blair was genuinely perplexed. She'd been so sure Bart would see the potential in Chuck's ideas.

"Because I, his only son, am what I have always been: a screw-up and a source of perpetual disappointment and embarrassment to him."

"I'm sure that's not true—"

"Save it." He waved her words away. "So tell me, how was your evening with Nate and his perfect family?"

"Why are you so angry? Trust me, I would've much rather spent the evening here with you than listen to his grandfather go on about campaign contributions."

"What, there's something about Nate that's less than perfect?" Chuck feigned shock.

"Are you—are you jealous?" It was something Blair had never considered before.

"What on earth would I have to be jealous of? Here I am, completely free, with the best of everything, nothing to tie me down…." He swept his arm around the room.

It was then that Blair saw the candles guttering on the table and the two plates, one partially eaten and the other untouched. He'd ordered dinner for them? Like a…date?

No, no, no, no, no, no.

"Far be it from me to be envious of your childhood sweetheart, your true love, your soulmate."

"Chuck, I don't understand. It's late and I'm tired and…."

"You know what I'm tired of? Being your 'booty tutor.' Which is ludicrous, because you never needed one-not then and certainly not now."

"Where is this coming from? Do you…have feelings for me?" What she was suggesting sounded so alien, as if she were asking if he'd sprouted two heads or some such nonsense.

"What if I do?" Was he asking the question of her or himself? "What if I want more than just waiting in the shadows for you? What if I want you? What if you feel it too?"

"Chuck, we can't do this," she spoke firmly, because she had to. "Nate is your best friend."

"Really? Because it feels more like you are my best friend."

"It's not real," her voice was almost a whisper. "It's just a physical attraction, a temporary thing."

He came closer then and took her hand in his. "The only thing that's ever been real is me and you."

Against her will, her fingers squeezed his.

"You're Chuck Bass. In a couple of weeks, I'll be just another memory, another girl," her voice almost cracked then, "and then you'll regret this."

"Is that what you honestly believe? That I could ever regret you, regret us?" His anger was returning. "If that's true, then just go back to your precious Nathaniel. We never had this conversation."

She stood there frozen in shock, unable to move or to process what had just happened.

Then Chuck grabbed a small, dark object from the coffee table and tossed it her way. "Happy Birthday, Blair," he almost sounded sad as he said it.

Out of pure reflex, she caught it and, looking down, realized it was a jewelry box. A Harry Winston jewelry box. Perhaps also out of reflex, her fingers opened the winged box, and there it was….

It was incredibly inappropriate…and the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

She gasped.

Surrounded by understated black velvet was an opal ring of rare and vivid beauty. Colorful lights seemed to float in a sea of frosty white. The round stone was surrounded by diamonds that seemed to wink at her. It was flawless, too beautiful to be real.

"I designed it just for you. You deserve more than some old family ring or something off a shopping list. Something that reflects your cool exterior and the fire below."

"Chuck, I…" Words failed her.

"I know it doesn't change anything, but I want you to have it." His fingers wrapped around hers, gently closing the box and pressing it into her hands.

"I…I…." Her eyes welled with tears.

"Go on, Blair," he rasped out, his eyes suspiciously shiny as well, "Go back to your fairytale. Trust me, you'll have no problem seducing your prince. Who could resist?" His hands left hers and one swept through one of her long dark curls, his touch lingering on the ends before letting her go and stepping back.

She stood there staring back at him, her ebony eyes enormous, her lips ever redder against her pale cheeks.

"Just go." He turned his back to her then, and she forced her legs across the floor, as she robotically retrieved her coat and bag, and walked out the door. She was still frozen as she reached the elevators and rode down to the lobby.

As she exited the main doors, the cool night air slapped at her cheeks and burning eyes. Twin tracks of fire slid down her face, blurring her vision, but she walked on, not stopping to hail a cab or collect her thoughts. She walked quickly and with purpose, only slowing when the limo caught up to her and she heard the driver bellowing her name.

Arthur had the front passenger window rolled down and was trying to explain that young Mr. Bass had requested he drive Miss Waldorf home.

Blair opened her mouth to decline the offer, but nothing came out, so she simply nodded and allowed Arthur to open the door for her. As she climbed in, she realized the Harry Winston box was still clutched tightly in her hand. She didn't let it go.

The ride home seemed endless; the back of the limo a vast, silent cavern. She refused to consider that it was because Chuck was not there with her.

When she finally got to the sanctuary of her bedroom, she threw herself on the bed, fully dressed, and opened the jewelry box again. The sight of the beautiful ring-her ring-started the tears flowing again. The irony did not escape her that the one person who could've dried those tears and made her smile again was the one who was responsible for them.

Eventually, her tears subsided and she fell into a deep sleep. Next thing she knew, morning was dawning and she was shouting for Dorota to bring her cold compresses for her swollen eyes. And coffee.

She needed to be extra sharp in both looks and mental acuity today.

Today she was going to seduce Nate Archibald.

To Be Continued in Chapter 7

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><p>I confess to having a certain amount (okay, a lot) of angst performance anxiety regarding this chapter. It did not help that Chuck and Blair were bound and determined to do what they wanted and not what I had outlined. Initially, Chuck was supposed to give Blair the Erickson-Beamon necklace, but after I typed "ring" for "necklace" three times in a late-night chat with Chrys1130, it became apparent Chuck had other plans. And then he was supposed to send Blair away in a harsh manner, but instead he somehow morphed into season 4 Chuck and let her go. What can I say, readers? He's Chuck Bass.<p>

Special shout-out to the Parisinthe1920s account on Twitter and Facebook. Nobody 'ships Chair with more timeless style.

Special thanks to my beta team (Chrys1130, svenjen and SnowedUnderNJ) and to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed. You give me encouragement, inspiration and smiles that mean so much more than words can say.

Why review? Because sending me large boxes of chocolates is frowned upon in my carb-controlled diet.


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